


Tied To Machines That Make Me Be

by imherecauseimnotallthere98



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Assisted Suicide, Coping, Crying, Hunters & Hunting, Hunting Accident, Hurt Castiel, Hurt No Comfort, Injury, Like Really Fucking Sad, Lonely Dean, M/M, Major Character Injury, Memories, Past Injury, Permanent Injury, Sad, Sad Dean, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 16:31:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imherecauseimnotallthere98/pseuds/imherecauseimnotallthere98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel was injured in a hunt months before, leaving him a quadriplegic. His body is slowly deteriorating, and as his seizures get worse, the very real threat of him losing the ability to move his head or talk grows. Not wanting to become a vegetable, Castiel enlists Dean's help. When the time comes, it will be Dean's job to end his boyfriend's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tied To Machines That Make Me Be

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Title is from Metallica's "One". Unbeta'd. Castiel's condition is based off Lincoln Rhyme in The Bone Collector by Jeffrey Deaver. Awesome book, great movie too. Highly recommended. I handed this story in to my teacher for a short story assignment, and he started crying while he was reading it too the class. I was very proud :)

"Dean, I can't move my own body. The doctor said the build up of spinal fluid in my back is getting worse. The seizures are more frequent and getting stronger. We both know we're waiting for the one that will make me a vegetable."

Dean held back the tears that threatened to fall, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. Ever since the hunting accident, they had all known from day one that Cas was paralysed and wasn't going to get better. He'd lived longer than Dr. Russell had guessed he would, but now his declining health was speeding up. It was only a matter of time until-  
Dean squeezed Cas's hand gently, knowing his fallen angel could feel it. He wanted to tell Cas to stop talking like that, that they would find a way to help him. But he didn't, because there wasn't. There was no way to weasel out of this one. No angel would help Cas, not after everything, and no demon would deal. Dean knew. He'd tried.

"I don't want to be a vegetable, Dean." Castiel rasped. "When I make that final transition, I want it to be on my own terms."

The tears Dean had been trying so hard to hold back fell with a choked sob. Cas didn't want to keep talking and hurt Dean more, but he had to get this out.

"I want you to help me do it."

Dean was shaking his head before Castiel was done talking.

"You can't ask me to do that, Cas. You can't."

His sobs were becoming harder as he wiped his face. Cas' fingers brushed his hand lightly. Dean could barely feel it, but he squeezed in return.

"Please, Dean." the angel pleaded. "Please."

A fresh set of tears formed behind Dean's eyes. He wanted to refuse, to tell Cas 'no way', but he couldn't. If it was Cas' last wish that Dean help him with this, than how could he say no?  
Slowly, he nodded, wiping his eyes again.

"Okay." He rasped out. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Okay, Cas." He nodded.

The ex-angel smiled sadly, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"Thank you, Dean."

 

The last seizure had been the worst so far. For a while there, everyone had been pretty sure that Cas wasn't gonna pull through. It had been too hard for Dean to stay in the room, seeing Cas, his Cas, spasming like that and struggling to breathe. He'd told Sam and Bobby to stay with him, then charged into another room in Bobby's house. Any room, he didn't care, just somewhere he wouldn't hear the pained grunts and spastic flailing.

Half an hour later, Cas was at least stable and resting. Dean was currently sitting in a chair he'd pulled up next to the bed, idly holding and rubbing the ex-angel's hand and starring absentmindedly at the bed.

"Do you ever leave?"

Dean looked up when he heard Cas's quiet voice. He smiled weakly before shaking his head.

"You're still a smart ass."

Cas huffed, a slight smile appearing on his face.

"I learnt from the best." he teased.

They stayed quiet for a moment, just enjoying each others' company without Sam or Bobby around. These moments were slowly becoming rare, and soon they would be gone all together, so both men savoured them when they could.

"What did the doctor say?" Cas asked, his tone serious.

Any lightness in Dean's features was gone in an instant. He remembered hearing Sam describe Cas over the phone to the doctor, 'cause Dean was too shaken up himself to do it. He hadn't heard what had been said on the other line, but the worried look on Sam's face when his head shot up to look at his brother had been more than enough to tell Dean it was bad.

He looked away uncomfortably, clearing his throat.

"They, uh...They said it doesn't look good."

He wanted to lie, but really, there was no point. Cas nodded in understanding.

"One more fit like that..."

Dean trailed off. Cas nodded again.

"Dean," he started out hesitantly. "It's time." he finnished weakly.

Dean's resolve broke with a choked sob. Even though he'd been sure it wouldn't be much longer, and had been readying himself each day for Cas to tell him to end it, finally hearing it was different.

"Cas..."

But there really wasn't anything left to say. Him and Cas had both already said everything that need to be said after Castiel was first injured.  
Leaning over, the hunter pulled the angel a little closer and kissed his forehead. Castiel closed his eyes and leaned into the hunter. Dean pulled back to look at the fallen angel, still gently cupping the back of his head, his fingers tangled in the messy, dark brown mop. He knew what he did next would only make this harder, but he couldn't resist. He needed this, one last time.  
Leaning in again, he pressed his lips to Cas', and felt fresh tears sting the backs of his eyes when Cas kissed back.

Dean didn't want to let him go or move away. He knew it was selfish but he didn't want to do this. He'd known Cas for damn near eight years now, and the last two they'd been much more than just friends. It just wasn't fair.  
The angel had given so much and risked his life for the sake of humanity, and this was his reward? Being de-powered until he was practically human, and then the paralysis? He deserved so much more.

Pulling away, Dean wiped the tears from his own face, taking a shaky breath. Every muscle in his body screamed him not to do what he was about to do. But Cas had asked him, so he was going to. He was going to help Cas end it.  
Walking over to the monitors, one by one he turned them off, tears rolling down his cheeks as he did. The steady beeping and humming of the machines had become something he was used to hearing in the back ground. Silence seemed wrong.

Finally, the hunter crouched down near the wall. He looked over to Cas, who was watching him from the bed. The angle nodded slowly. Taking in a deep breath, Dean pulled the plug.

"Thank you." Castiel whispered, his eyes falling shut.

 

You'd think what would have bothered Dean the most about Castiel being gone would have been not having him around for big things. Holidays, his birthday, stuff like that, but it wasn't. It was the little, mundane things that reminded him just how much he missed that angel. He missed the comfortable silence between them while they were driving down the highway at two in the morning, trying to get home after a hunt. He missed how Cas used to tilt his head and narrow his eyes in confusion at pop culture references, even after Dean explained them. He missed calm, lazy nights in the bunker or motels, just the two of them sitting beside each other, legs touching and Dean's arm on the back of the couch, resting on his angel's shoulders as they watched movies and shows Dean insisted Cas needed to see. He missed the way Cas slowly learnt to love coffee, but never learnt how to work the coffee machine, and would whine every morning until Dean took pity on him and started it for him, smiling the whole time.  
Every time one of those little mundane things popped into his head, it was like a punch to the gut, and he could feel his heart clench painfully again. He had gotten so used to having it so good, so perfect, just for a little bit, and now the bed was too big and too cold with only one person in it, and Dean couldn't sleep without dreaming he was holding his angel again. And every morning he woke up from that imagined bliss to find the bed painfully empty and cold beside him, and he fought back the lump in his throat, and made himself get up. Because he had to.  
He'd told himself a few weeks after he'd burned Cas' body, that he was gonna get out of bed every morning. That he was gonna breathe in and out, all day long. And he clung to the faint hope that eventually, he wouldn't have to remind himself to get out of bed and just breathe. And that one day, he wouldn't have to think about how good he'd had it, how perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it. I've noticed a lot of the stuff I've been posting is kinda sad, so I'll see if I have a most upbeat fic to post next. Please comment and leave kudos if you liked it!  
> My tumblr is imherecauseimnotallthere98


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